Tread Lightly
by Cricketkittycup
Summary: He released her, to go where she pleased and return to her father if she so wished. But she did not wish it. She wished to return to him, to his quirky grins and morbid quips. Because she cared for him. And he cared for her. She didn't see the lidded eyes leering at her through a dirty window as she approached. She didn't see the nasty grin that promised cruelty. Skin Deep AU
1. Chapter 1

Hello! Welcome to my first Rumbelle fic. I have been reading Rumbelle for probably 4 years or so now but have not contributed any of my own works, though I have many ideas swirling around in my overactive imagination. I actually started writing this story about 3 years ago, but did not find it again until recently, hidden away in one of my many composition notebooks. The whole first chapter was already written, and today my muse was finally strong enough to kick me into continuing it. So after much fixing and updating after three years of sitting untouched, here it is, the first chapter of Tread Lightly.

Set in the Enchanted Forest during Skin Deep, after Belle goes out for straw. She does not meet Regina on the road here.

Warning: Mature themes, non-con, trigger warning; Read at your own risk. This will be a heavily mature fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT or any of it's characters.

Enjoy!

* * *

He let her go.

He didn't expect her to return. She was free. She could go home.

The funny thing was, she didn't _want _to go home. She missed her father of course, but when she thought of home, the castle where she grew up no longer came to mind. She saw only the Dark Castle, with it's empty halls and dusty rooms.

And him. The Dark One. Rumplestiltskin.

He was her home now. He may have imprisoned her at first and forced housemaid duties on her, but he was nothing but kind in the long run, if a little snarky and feisty at times. And she had come to care for him. She cared for him in a way she had never cared for anyone before. He was her light, however contradictory that sounded.

He was the Dark One, and she cared for him.

And he must have cared for her, or he never would've let her go. He released her, to go where she pleased and return to her father if she so wished. But she did not wish it. She wished to return to him, to his quirky grins and morbid quips. Because she cared for him. And he cared for her.

Belle smiled to herself at the thought, clutching the basket of straw tighter. He would be baffled at her return. He would be delighted that she decided to come back. She just knew it.

Excitement overtaking her, she quickened her steps. She kept to the edge of the dirt road that cut through the village, with small houses and shops lining either side. She refused to let any possible traffic slow her down, not when she was so determined to return to him as soon as possible. His possible reactions to her return flitted through her mind, what he might say or do, and how the night might end urged her on.

She didn't see the lidded eyes leering at her through a dirty window as she approached. She didn't see the nasty yellowed grin that promised cruelty.

She definitely did not see the rough, grubby hands shoot out from seemingly nowhere to grab onto her arm in an iron grip, causing her to drop her basket.

Before she knew what was happening, she was being pulled into a very dark room with a door slamming shut behind her. She screamed as she was pushed harshly into a cold, grimy wall. Huge calloused hands closed around her arms and pinned them at her sides. She felt hot breath in her face, and then there was a low ominous chuckling in her ear.

"Seems I've caught myself a pretty little wench today," growled that same voice, deep and husky and utterly terrifying. Belle whimpered as the stranger inched ever closer to her face. "What were ya doin' all by yourself, little lady?" he sneered. Glassy, bloodshot, and rather unfocused eyes pinned her in place.

Belle didn't answer, instead tearing her gaze away to wildly scan the room around her in search of escape. Her captor loosed that menacing, low chuckle again. "No voice, eh? Maybe I can fix that…" He pushed up against her, nearly crushing her into the stones at her back. The brute growled appreciatively as he pressed into her thin frame.

"Such a pretty face," he hissed, desire lacing his tone. Belle turned her head away sharply as he aimed an open-mouthed, wet kiss to her neck. Her face scrunched up in disgust and she grit her teeth, refusing to cry out. She would not break that easily. She would not show weakness.

She started struggling in earnest, arms thrashing at her sides, head tossing in an attempt to dislodge the unwelcome attention to her neck. "Let go of me, you bastard!" she shrieked.

This earned her a hard slap across her cheek. Tears sprung to her eyes from the sting, and a tiny trickle of blood trailed down her lip where she must have bit it. She moaned, dazed.

"Bite that tongue of yours, wench," the stranger hissed. Belle whimpered again, cheek aching. She sagged against the wall.

Then she felt his grip on her arms loosen. Was he releasing her? Hope flared in her chest but was quickly squashed as his hands trailed upward. She gasped when they landed without hesitation on her breasts, tearing her cloak open and groping at them through the fabric of her dress. The she heard a ripping sound, and felt cool air against her skin, shortly followed by those grubby fingers.

The realization that something devastatingly awful was going to happen, the last thing she ever could've imagine happening to her since going with the Dark One, sunk in. She couldn't fight this evil alone. She gathered air in her lungs and screamed as loud as she was able.

"Rumplestil-!"

A fat hand slapped over her mouth, preventing her from finishing the name she needed so desperately to hear her. "None of that now," said her attacker gruffly. "Can't have no one coming to save you." He grinned maliciously.

She could not call out. She could not call upon the Dark One to save her. She was all alone, trapped by a _real_ beast.

He kept one hand over her mouth, while the other grabbed roughly at her breast. Belle trembled, praying to every god she knew to get her out of this unscathed.

She didn't know how much time passed before his hand reached for her skirts. Immediately her body came to life, fighting in one last ditch effort to free herself, to push him away just enough so she could wriggle out of his arms and run. But she wasn't strong enough. He was at least twice her size, all thick and burly muscle, and he held her still against him easily. She screamed into his hand as he ripped her skirts away and tugged at her petticoats. She tried kicking him, but to no avail. He tugged the petticoats away, quickly followed by her undergarments, and stroked a fat finger along her womanhood. She sobbed, shuddering at the unwanted intrusion. He hummed lustfully and resumed his attack on her neck, biting and dragging his tongue over every inch of skin he could reach.

The hand that had been touching her most private place suddenly disappeared, but Belle could hear the sound of a belt unclasping and fabric shifting. She shivered violently in repulsion as he pressed against her once more, his hard length pushing unmercifully against her womanhood. She sobbed, knowing all too well what his intentions were at this point and dreading every second of it.

He was going to ruin her.

_Why is this happening to me?_

With a heavy groan, he pushed into her, eliciting a blood-curdling screech from his captive. In retaliation she bit his hand, pain and disgust and unrelenting sadness at what she just lost racing through her. He yelled, and slapped her again.

"Dammit! Now you're really going to get it!" he growled, grinding into her hips and thrusting hard. His arm fell back across her mouth to prevent her from crying out. Belle felt like dying. She wished the floor would just swallow her up and toss her into oblivion.

This wasn't like the stories she read, where the dashing prince comes to the rescue of the princess on the brink of danger. No knight in shining armor was coming for her. She wept bitterly, going numb to the feeling of her innocence being torn away. Her captor's grunts grew louder in her ear. And to think that everyone believed the gold-skinned Rumplestiltskin was the monster. No, the real monster mingled among them, disguised in their flesh and clothing, lurking right beneath their noses.

Just when she thought she might pass out, he went rigid, groaning harshly. She grimaced at the feeling of wetness trickling down between her thighs. As he pulled away, arm still covering her mouth, only one thought kept running through her mind. _I'm ruined._

Then, time started moving again in a blur, and the next thing she knew she was being tossed out into the street, dress torn open and exposing her bruised skin to the world. She slowly looked up into the cruel eyes of the man who destroyed her. He sneered down at her.

"Thanks for the good time, wench. Now run along back to where you came from. If they'll still want you, anyway." He chuckled nastily before disappearing back into the hovel, door slamming behind him. She was alone again. Alone and ruined.

She curled up into a tight ball against the side of the building, shrouded in shadow and away from prying eyes, and sobbed for all she was worth.

Minutes later, or hours, she didn't know, her tears finally subsided and she lay on the ground, exhausted. His name spilled from her lips as she fell unconscious.

"Rumplestiltskin…"

* * *

The Dark One found himself pacing the perimeter of his laboratory, anxiety clawing at his chest. The hour was getting late, and still his little maid had not returned. Not that he expected her to. He did free her of their deal after all. But he couldn't stop the tiny inkling of hope that she would come back to him.

As the sun set, he had settled into the bench at the window where she would read her books, keeping him company as he worked on his potions and alchemy, and watched the shadows lengthen across the empty courtyard. The minutes ticked by, and still she was nowhere in sight. But of course not. She wasn't going to come back.

With a sigh, he shook his head and stood, preparing to teleport himself to his wheel to spin all his regret away and hopefully forget her smiling blue eyes.

Then he heard it.

It was but a whisper, a faint niggling at the edges of his conscience. He stumbled in surprise, then quickly stood up straighter and tilted his head slightly, trying to grasp at it better. It came again, even more faint, and he felt it more than heard it, pulling at him in a way he could not ignore. Not that he would ever ignore her call. He would move the moon and sky for her if she asked.

Eyes widening in distress, he disappeared in a purple haze.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin found himself standing in a dark alley somewhere in the small village that his castle overlooked. He looked around, confused and concerned, before his gaze landed on the silhouette outline in moonlight by the wall. Tentatively he stepped forward, kneeling and reaching out to lay a hand on the form. "Belle?" It was dark, but he was just able to make out her features, the features burned into his eyelids whenever he closed them.

She stirred then, blue eyes opening and head turning to look shakily up at him. He stifled a gasp of concern at seeing the darkening bruise on her cheek and the dried blood on her lips. "Rumple…?" she whispered brokenly.

"Yes dear, it's me." He grasped her injured cheek gently in his hand, and she leaned into it with a shaky breath. "What's happened to you?" he breathed.

Her face contorted as memories washed over her. She let out a sob and lunged for him, arms wrapping weakly around his neck. "Rumple…. He-he…" She couldn't speak for the sobs wracking her small body. Rumplestiltskin rubbed her back soothingly and brushed his fingers through her tousled hair.

"Shh, love," he soothed. He pushed her back slightly to hold her by the shoulders and searched her watery eyes. She sniffed, but her sobs abated. "Tell me what's wrong, and what in the seven hells did this to you." He gestured at the slowly swelling right half of her face.

Belle bit her lip. She didn't want to tell him. She didn't want him to look upon her with revulsion and dub her a whore. But his eyes were so kind, and his voice so worried for her. She took a shaky breath.

"He ruined me," she whispered, almost inaudibly.

Then, "He ruined me!" she cried out, breaking again, and buried her face in her hands. Rumple froze. _Did she mean…? _

His grip tightened on her shoulders, causing her to look up at him again. She gasped at the unbridled fury rising and glowing in his golden eyes. "Who is 'he'?" he ground out through clenched teeth. Belle could feel the tension of magic crackling around them. She slowly turned to stare at the wooden door a few feet away, and then back at him again. She saw his gaze follow hers and lock on the door, as if he could burn the whole thing down by glaring at it. Well, he probably could.

"He…He's in there. H-he-it was so awful, Rumple. I-I…I couldn't call for you…I tried, so hard…" Tears continued their slow trek down her pale face as she broke off.

The Dark One was seeing red. He glanced back to the poor woman now crying silently in his arms, and then again to the door of the pitiful shack. The man-no, the _monster _behind that door had defiled his Belle, _his_ Belle, and Rumplestiltskin swore to himself he would make that pathetic excuse for a human regret it. If he was still alive in the end to feel that regret.

Belle was leaning into him again, whispering something too quiet for him to hear. He forced himself to let some of the rage drift away, he would come back to it after he took care of his shuddering maid. He pulled her close mumbled sweet nothings into her hair. Then he teleported them back to his castle, where he set her down carefully in her bed. She immediately huddled into a fetal position again, whispering to herself.

Rumplestiltskin settled next to her and gripped her shoulders again, pulling her into a sitting position. "Belle, my dear, what are you saying?"

She looked up at him slowly, eyes wide and bloodshot in the glowing light of the fireplace. "I'm ruined."

Rumplestiltskin grit his teeth and looked her fiercely in the eye. "Don't you _dare_ say that, Belle. That man may have taken something of yours which didn't belong to him, but you are _not_ ruined." Then his eyes softened, and he cupped her face in his scaled hands. "I will never see you as ruined. Only as the kind, intelligent, beyond-all-comparison beauty that you are."

Belle gazed at him. He sounded so sincere. She slowly wrapped her arms around him and attempted to calm herself. She felt him return her embrace and she finally felt safe. He couldn't return her virtue, but he would protect her, forever.

An hour later, or three, Rumplestiltskin didn't know, he slowly extracted himself from his maid's now limp arms and left her to sleep away the horrors of the day. Before he left, he waved a hand over her delicate form, and her tattered dress was swapped out for a modest blue nightgown that had been hung up in her wardrobe, and her skin was cleared of any unpleasantries. When he was satisfied with her current state, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Her mouth twitched in what he thought was a small smile as he turned away. With a deep breath and a change into his most intimidating leathers, he disappeared in a puff of violet smoke.

There was a man out there who had some answering to do, and entrails to be hung from the ceiling.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!

Next chapter will be out soon!


	2. Chapter 2

Here's chapter two! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT or its characters.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin landed in a dark room with only a single candle burning in the corner. Glancing around, he did not see a single living soul, though the air stunk of whiskey and something else. He clenched his teeth, feeling the fury burn through his veins at the thought of his Belle being taken against her will by some drunken sod. Rumplestiltskin already knew the git wouldn't walk away from this encounter with his life. A cruel smirk twisted his lips as he backed into the darkest corner of the hovel to wait out his prey.

It didn't take long for the man in question to come stumbling through the door in an alcohol-induced stupor. Rumplestiltskin waited until he had stumbled his way to the table in the center of the one-room house, watching with narrowed eyes as the burly man tipped back a decanter of cheap whiskey.

_Fresh from the bar and still going like he hasn't had drop in his life_, the Dark One thought disgustedly. He decided now was as good a time as any to make his appearance. He stepped forward and stood just shy of the candle's feeble light.

"Lovely little place you have here. So very…quaint."

Rumplestiltskin had to commend the git. He'd yet to see anyone so intoxicated move as fast as this one did, spinning around and fixing the Dark One's corner with a rather unfocused glare. Rumplestiltskin smiled nastily and stepped into the light.

The lout's fists clenched and he glared even harder. "Who are you? What are you doing in here? Get out!"

"Tsk, tsk, dearie, now that's no way to greet your guests." Rumplestiltskin flourished a clawed hand, twirling it nonchalantly as he skipped closer. The man snarled at him, attempting a threatening step in his direction, and promptly stumbled. He managed to catch himself before falling flat on his stinking face, but it was a close thing.

"Who are you?" he repeated. He was trying to sound menacing, but rather failed when the last word ended in a loud hiccup. Rumplestiltskin sighed melodramatically and a flicked a clawed finger at the drunk. The man stood straighter as all the liquor evaporated from his body and sobriety returned. He blinked several times in bewilderment, staring around the room like he had never seen it before. Or perhaps trying to figure out how he got there. "What—"

Rumplestiltskin cut him off mid-splutter. "Can't have you all dizzy and stupid while we chat, now. That just wouldn't be fair." He giggled in that unnerving high pitch that made everyone distinctly uncomfortable. "Now that you're all there in the head, let's try this talking thing again, shall we?"

The git's now clear gaze landed on him. His eyes clouded with confusion. "Who are you?"

The Dark One rolled his eyes and scoffed, mildly affronted. "Who doesn't know _me_? I who snatches babes in the night, whose notorious dealings are highly sought after by those most desperate souls? Really, dearie."

It was plainly evident when realization hit the sorry lout. His face paled considerably as he took a wary step back and bumped into the table.

"The Dark One," he said slowly, a trace of fear lacing his voice.

"Ding ding ding! So glad you figured it out," Rumplestiltskin tittered. He grinned evilly, all his blackened teeth on display.

The man fidgeted nervously. "But…but why are you here? I did not call you. There are no deals I want to make."

"Oh, but I am not here to deal, dearie, no. Especially not with the likes of you." Rumplestiltskin steepled his hands in front of him and slowly circled the man. _Predator and prey. Just how I like it._ Dark eyes followed his movements warily. "I am here on account of damaged property," he continued. A tiny voice in his head argued that she was most certainly_ not_ damaged, and definitely not just _property_,but he wasn't about to let this pathetic welp know that. He was supposed to be terrifying. His feelings had no place here. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about a young_ maiden _passing through now would you? Young and beautiful, eyes like the sea, wearing this lovely cloak?" With a wave of his hand Belle's cloak lifted from the dusty floor where it had been tossed aside and floated to his waiting claws. He thrust it forward for the man to see.

The already pale face took on a rather sickly pallor. He didn't even glance down at the garment, but instead seemed frozen to the spot, eyes locked with the Dark One's unblinking gaze. He must have known what was coming.

"I—I didn't—she was _yours_?" he squeaked.

If it weren't for the circumstances, the sight of this bulky, hardened criminal reduced to a shivering, stuttering puddle would have been comical.

The nasty grin disappeared from Rumplestiltskin's countenance. He was done playing games. Belle's cloak poofed away in a wisp of purple smoke. "Yes. She belongs to _me_, dearie. And you_ dared _to touch her?" In one swift movement, he was nose to nose with his victim, claws digging into the man's throat. Frantic hands immediately flew up to tear at those claws in a futile effort to relieve the pressure.

"I didn't know she was yours!" he choked out desperately.

Rumplestiltskin growled. "You think you can take just _any _woman against her will? Snatch them off the streets and force them to endure your filthy attentions? Strip young maidens of their virtue?" He slammed him into the table, knocking the empty whiskey bottle to the floor. The sound of shattering glass echoed around the empty room. The man cried out in pain as his head collided with the hard wood. Rumplestiltskin glared down at him, raw fury rolling off him in waves. Magic crackled around them.

"You're more of a monster than I will ever be, dearie," he snarled.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" the man whimpered. "Please! I'll never touch another woman again!" He struggled weakly under Rumplestiltskin's unrelenting grip.

The manic grin returned to the Dark One's lips. His eyes gleamed. "You're right, you never will touch another woman again. You will never touch _anyone_ again." He leaned down next to his victim's ear. "Because I am going to put you through the hell you put my Belle through, and then I am going to tear you limb from limb and listen to your screams of agony as you die slowly by my hand. You will wish you were dead ten times over by the time I finish with you. Does that sound fair?"

His answer was a pathetic cry for help and more scrabbling at the claws still holding his throat. Rumplestiltskin chuckled darkly.

"No one is coming to _your_ rescue, dearie." He put a finger to his chin in pretend thought. "In fact, I sincerely doubt anyone will even miss you. Certainly not the poor maidens whose lives you ruined," he hummed.

"Don't do this!" the sod pleaded.

"Too late," said the Dark One.

Unfortunately for the man, nobody was around to hear his bloody screams. Not that anyone _could _have helped him, anyway.

* * *

Thanks for all the reviews so far! Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

Hello again friends! Sorry about the wait, life has been a bit busy with work and planning for our trip in two weeks. I also had some writer's block on chapter 4 but I worked through it and will hopefully have it typed up in the next few weeks.

We get some much needed hurt-comfort this chapter, but also angst, and Belle is not thinking clearly.

Hope you enjoy! :)

* * *

When Belle awoke, she was in her bed, the sheets strewn haphazardly around her. She must've kicked them all over during one of her nightmares. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself as she recalled the dreams that had plagued her, forcing her to relive the day before over and over again.

_I'm ruined. _

Blinking rapidly to dispel the inevitable tears, she turned to sit on the edge of the bed. She noticed she was now wearing a blue silk nightgown, though she doesn't remember falling asleep in it. Its softness brushed comfortingly across her legs. She smiled slightly. It was one of her newer gowns, gifted from the master of the castle himself. He had claimed her old ones were getting ratty, and that just wouldn't do. She remembered scoffing at his aloofness; she could see right through him by now. Nonetheless she had accepted the gown gratefully, and it had quickly become one of her favorites. Its soft silk was like no other and the robin's egg blue matched her eyes perfectly. She wore it almost every night. Belle didn't fail to notice Rumplestiltskin's appreciative glances at her when she dared to wear it in his presence.

With welcome thoughts of him dancing through her head and keeping the darkness at bay for the moment, she stood up to dress and get started on breakfast. Nothing at the Dark Castle had changed, and the best thing she could do was go on with her typical routine.

Belle turned towards her wardrobe, but in doing so noticed the large copper tub sitting upon the rug. Steam wafted up from near scalding hot water, and the pleasant aroma of roses drifted up to meet her. She stepped closer, drawn to the heat of the bath. Different soaps and hair lotions lined the edge of the tub, her favorites she noticed.

_A bath certainly would be nice, after… _

She shook her head to clear that line of thought before it could pull her down to the pits of despair once again. She stripped out of the night dress and her underthings and slipped into the steaming water with a delighted sigh. The rose fragrance was soothing to her senses and the warmth seeped into her aching muscles. She sank deeper into the tub so her chestnut locks were floating in a fan around her and closed her eyes.

Belle didn't know how long she lay there, submerged and drifting through hazy thoughts. At some point it occurred to her the water was still as hot ad it had been when she got in the tub, despite how long she had been soaking. Enchanted, she supposed. She wasn't about to argue at any rate, the prolonged heat was welcome.

She reached for one of the soaps, a vanilla and spice scented one that had appeared on her vanity one day. Rumple really seemed to enjoy giving her things. Just about all her luxuries, including the large bedroom in which she resided, were all gifts from the sorcerer. Though he would scoff and make some snide remark about how she needed to stay healthy in order to do her chores or some such nonsense whenever she tried to pin such actions on him. But the small smiles she caught as he would wave her away told her that her thanks were not in vain. Belle hummed thoughtfully, wondering just where said sorcerer was and what he was doing. He obviously didn't expect her down for breakfast, if the eternally hot bath was any indication.

Finding a soft sponge among the soaps, Belle scrubbed herself down. She was feeling better by the minute, surrounded by the delicious smelling bubbles. She reached up to scrub one shoulder and stopped abruptly when she caught sight of several yellowish-purple splotches marring her pale arm.

Her breath hitched, and she thought she might faint. The bruises started at her wrist and tracked upwards, peppered here and there by angry red welts in the distinct shape of rough fingernails. A strangled sound escaped the back of her throat and she slowly looked down at her other arm. It appeared in much the same shape.

Belle choked out a sob as all the memories she had been carefully avoiding flooded her mind. All the painful grabbing and desperate attempts at escape, trying to call out for help and failing…

Tears blurring her vision, she gripped the sponge tighter and rubbed determinedly at the cruel marks. She didn't want this glaringly obvious reminder, these scars that were testament to her ruined innocence.

When the sponge failed to do much but leave her skin red and raw, she threw it aside and used her nails instead. She raked and clawed at her arms, feeling the sting and burn of torn flesh, but failing to care in the face of her hysteria. She was sobbing in earnest now, seeing the face of the demon who damaged her so terribly in her mind's eye and feeling his horrid touch on her skin. The water turned scarlet with blood, lapping at her trembling form.

Belle didn't hear the creak of the door on the far side of the room, or the subsequent shout and crash of breaking china as footsteps hurried towards her. She barely registered gentle hands on her shoulders shaking her, or the voice yelling in her ear.

When these same hands tried to pry her fingers away from her shredded and bleeding skin, she thrashed and screamed, but could not dislodge them.

"No, stop, please! Leave me alone!" she shrieked, the memory engulfing her. Water splashed over the sides of the tub as she pushed at her imagine attacker. She heard the sinister laugh surrounding her, filling her head, making her dizzy with fear. She shook her head violently.

"Please…" she choked, the fight going out of her suddenly. He would have her and ruin her all over again.

"Belle, sweetheart, it's me! Please, I won't hurt you! Can you hear me, Belle?"

That voice… that wasn't the voice of the monster. This was a voice that filled her happy dreams, whispered sweet nothings to her as she fell asleep the night before. It poked at the edges of her conscience, dragged her out of the abyss. She felt herself surfacing from the nightmare, the ghostly chuckling and unwelcome touch fading away.

"Belle?"

She blinked open her eyes, focusing on the voice so full of worry for her. Dark wavy hair and large golden eyes swam in view. She met Rumplestiltskin's gaze as he stared down at her anxiously.

"Belle?" he said again, shaky hands resting on her face. She leaned into them, and with a sob reached up to clutch at his lapels, grounding herself. He pulled her against him, as much as he could with the copper tub in the way. She sniffled into his brocade waistcoat as she crooned soothingly to her.

"You're safe now, it's alright."

_Safe._

Was she safe? Could he really promise her that? She felt like any moment the brute who defiled her would come through the door with leering eyes, pull her out of his arms and steal her away.

Belle whimpered pitifully, shaking her head against Rumplestiltskin's chest. He rubbed her back comfortingly. The reminder that she was still very much naked and being held rather closely by her employer crossed her mind, but if she was being honest with herself, she found she really didn't care anymore. What was there to hide anyway? She was _ruined_.

"Do you… want to talk about it?" he said haltingly after some time.

_No. _Belle took a deep breath. She really didn't, but it wasn't fair of her to be cold towards him, not after all he'd done for her. "I had a nightmare…but then I woke, and I thought everything was okay, but then I saw the… the…" Gods, she could barely speak! She forced herself to breathe. "The bruises. I saw the bruises and I just wanted them gone, so I wouldn't be reminded… But then all I could think about was being attacked and… touched…and hurt…" her voice broke and swallowed thickly. She heard Rumple's shaky breath.

"Oh Belle… I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I should have gone with you, escorted you back to your kingdom safely. This never should have happened to you," he whispered brokenly.

Belle pulled back to look at him. "No, Rumple. Of course it's not your fault. You couldn't have known." She tilted her head in confusion. "And _this_ is my home. I wouldn't leave you. I don't want to."

He smiled sadly. "You don't mean that, Belle."

"Rumple…" Belle sighed, leaning into him again and shaking her head. _Stubborn man. He would deny the truth_.

More time passed in silence. It was a while before Belle realized she was no longer in the tub but wrapped in a fluffy towel and cradled in Rumplestiltskin's lap. She clutched the towel closer to her and gazed absently in the direction of the fireplace, its glow lighting her rosy cheeks. Her thoughts drifted in dark directions, and she felt her anxiety growing. She needed to know something.

"He won't find me, will he? What if—"

Rumple cut her off abruptly. "You needn't worry about _him_, Belle. I promise you will never see that bastard again," he said fiercely.

Belle nodded. She forgets sometimes, that he's the Dark One, and nobody crosses the Dark One. She forgets when the only side he shows her is the side that treats her so kindly and gives her books and looks at her as if she's the only one in the world that matters. She knows she can rest assured that the man who stole her precious virtue is of this world no longer. Another act of love and protection on his part. Not that he would openly admit that to her.

She snapped out of her thoughts when she felt his hand gently come to rest on her abused arm. The burning pain returned in full force, reminding her of what she had done. She must have been blocking the pain like she blocked out the traumatic memories. She bit her tongue tp quell the urge to cry out and turned her gaze down to where his hand rested.

The white towel had turned red where it covered her arms, the stain slowly spreading. Her eyes slammed shut as a wave nausea overcame her. She felt Rumple slowly peel away the towel, and she chanced a look at her damaged flesh.

Her breath hitched. Deep, ragged gashes oozed down the length of both arms. There was barely a hint of skin that wasn't torn and bleeding. Belle was rather surprised she hadn't passed out from blood loss already, though she sure felt like fainting now. She forced herself to take more deep breaths.

"May I heal you?" Rumple's quiet voice came to her as if from across a void. She turned and met his gaze. He looked back at her with those solemn eyes filled with concern. She nodded and leaned away slightly to give him better access to her injuries.

He raised a glowing hand over her arm. Belle felt a warm tingling sensation as he passed it over the gashes, leaving clean, unblemished skin in its wake. The stinging faded away and she heaved a sigh of relief. He repeated the process with her other arm. When he finished, his hand fell to her wrist and he stroked it reverently. Then to Belle's surprise—and pleasure—he lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss there. Her pulse quickened. She was almost certain he would hear her racing heartbeat.

But he just gave her a shy smile and returned her hand to her lap.

All too soon, he stood up, pulling her with him. Now he was looking anywhere but at her as his hands fell away from hers. She missed the contact immediately. His fingers fluttered at his sides, a nervous tic of his, she had noticed.

"Well I, ah…" he cleared his throat, still determinedly not looking at her. "I will leave you to uh, dress…" One of those fidgeting hands gestured at her. She realized almost instantaneously that her towel had fallen open, putting her body on full display. She looked down at herself, then back at him, unfazed. Even after everything that transpired between yesterday afternoon and now, and he undoubtedly having seen her exposed more than once, he still was a gentleman enough to respect her privacy. That realization made her love him all the more—yet the fact that he kept his eyes averted also left a part of her disappointed.

Afterall, she was already ruined.

She suddenly more than anything wanted him in ways she had never wanted anyone. She wanted him to take away her pain, in more than just the physical sense. And deep inside her innermost being there was an agony that she knew only he, this man she loved with all her heart, could ease.

With her mind made up, she set her jaw and took a daring step forward. The towel fell from her shoulders to pool at her feet. Rumplestiltskin swung his head around at the sound. His bewildered gaze landed on her nude form for half a second before he slammed his eyes shut, a hissing sound escaping his clenched teeth. "Belle, what are you—"

He broke off in a gasp as she closed the distance between them, molding herself to his body and grabbing his hand. She lifted it quickly to her breast with a pleased hum.

His hand barely touched her before he snatched it away and stumbled backwards, staring at her as if she had gone quite mad. Perhaps she had. And she didn't care.

Belle started towards him again, a plea in her voice and fire in her eyes. "Rumplestiltskin." Her voice was like velvet.

He shook his head in disbelief, backing away quickly towards the open door. "Belle, I—this—we can't—" he paused and took a deep breath. His voice was steadier when he continued. "This is not you, dearie. You don't really want this." His tone was resolute, but Belle didn't miss the flicker of desire in his eyes, however hard he tried to hide it. She reached for him once more.

"But Rumple, I _do_—"

"Rest, Belle. That is an order." Now his eyes were cold and steely, his tone brooking no argument. He had closed himself off to her. She halted in her advance, heart clenching. He turned to go. "I will send tea in a while. And perhaps a book to keep you busy. Now rest." And then he was gone, the sound of the door shutting echoing loudly in her ears.

Belle sank to the floor, feeling numb. What had she done? Why was he running away? Was he frightened of her? She couldn't help feeling the way she did, wanting him, and she was certain he felt the same towards her. But he had fled. She hurt so badly, and she _needed _him. She had never _needed_ like this before.

Maybe she really _was_ mad. Delirious, even. She knew the events of yesterday were causing post-traumatic stress on her addled brain, but did that mean her feelings were imagined? Did she _need_ to feel desired so badly to cover up the hurt and defeat festering deep inside? Right now, she really wasn't sure. All she knew was that his rejection hit hard. She didn't know what to feel anymore. The numbness was slowly overcoming her, turning the world around her grey and lifeless. There were no tears this time—not that she had any left to shed, anyway. There was just a whole lot of nothingness now.

Belle wrapped her arms around herself and lay on the cold stone floor, unfeeling. She stared blankly at the spot he had stood scant moments before, silently willing him to reappear and take her up in his arms and push away the emptiness. But of course, he did not. She wondered if he would even come back at all that day.

Perhaps he wouldn't. Perhaps she had scared him off so badly he would lock himself away in that tower of his and leave her to face this empty void alone. She can't exactly say she blamed him, but how she wished things could have gone differently.

She had never felt so unwanted.


End file.
